


Hot for Teacher

by enbycupcake



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Dom!Obi-Wan, Dom/sub, Established Bail Organa/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Established Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker - Freeform, Eventual Padmé Amidala/Bail Organa/Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, M/M, Multi, Sub!Anakin, Trans Anakin, Trans Character, trans obi wan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 23:38:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15254595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enbycupcake/pseuds/enbycupcake
Summary: Anakin is called for a meeting after the semester's over. Apparently Kenobi was onto him.





	Hot for Teacher

**Author's Note:**

> This is self indulgent omg

Biting his lip, Anakin knocks on the slightly ajar office door. His stomach is knotting, and he’s pretty sure that his voice might waver when he has to talk. He’s passed the class – an A minus, to boot – but Kenobi had asked him to come back after his last class. Hopefully he doesn’t know. Swallowing, Anakin quickly wipes his hand on his pants before stepping into the office. 

Kenobi is sitting in his chair, one leg crossed over the other: his favorite way to sit. Anakin forces his eyes up to Kenobi’s face, his hair much messier than it was this morning, as Anakin makes his way to the other chair on the opposite of the desk. He immediately brings his hand to rest between his thighs so he doesn’t fidget it. It probably isn’t what Anakin’s thinking, but until he knows he’d better not make his nerves anymore obvious. Anakin tries to give a friendly smile.

“Anakin, please relax. I don’t bite unless asked.” Kenobi smirks. “Which you can, now. I’ve noticed that you’ve been… _interested_.”

Sputtering, shaking his head–oh _shi_ –

“Oh, baby boy, I could tell that you wanted me to bend you over my desk since day one. And your girlfriend playing with your clothes when she knew you’d see me only made it more obvious. It’s okay. It’s okay, Anakin.” Kenobi leans forward and offers his hand. “You don’t have to pretend anymore, darling.”

Sure his face is on fire, how did Kenobi even _know_ that Padmé picked his clothes for him on days he had Kenobi’s class, Anakin bites his lip as he stares at the offered hand. Padmé and he had discussed this, had said he could, but he’d always thought Kenobi wouldn’t be the one to make a move. “I…you want me?”

“Yes, Anakin. Though I wasn’t as ready to jump you in class as you were me, I have noticed you.”

Anakin ducks his head and watches as his hand finds Kenobi’s. “Yeah?”

“Hard not to when you’re the smartest and prettiest boy there.”

Fingers curling, butterflies fluttering in his stomach, Anakin brings his head back up. “What about your….?”

“Bail?” Kenobi laughs, bringing up Anakin’s hand. His lips are slightest chapped and his facial hair tickles a little, but nonetheless Anakin feels his legs start turning to jelly at the press of the kiss. “He’s the one who talked me into this. My boyfriend has…grown attached to you over the stories I’ve told him.”

A high pitched noise escapes his throat without permission. 

“And he’s greatly enjoyed…imagining me taking you.”

Anakin keens. He knows that his hand has gone tight in Kenobi’s, but he can’t help it. That’s so fucking hot knowing that Kenobi has thought about him, has probably talked about how to fuck him with his boyfriend, his boyfriend has thought of watching him get fucked. “Have you…touched yourself…?”

“Oh, Anakin.” Kenobi pulls Anakin forward. “We’ve fucked talking about how I’d take you. How Bail’d have me take you. We’ve mused about how Padmé would want me to take you. I’m sure that you’d just love that, wouldn’t you?”

Whining, Anakin nods. His eyes are drawn to Kenobi’s lips, the pleased smirk on his face. He’d never thought this would happen, especially not so _fast_.

“I asked you a question, baby boy.”

Instantly Anakin feels himself start to get wet. Moaning, he nods again. “Yes. I would. I would.”

Kenobi pulls him again, a breath away from being able to kiss. “Good boy. I want you to call me sir.”

Moaning it out, Anakin answers, “Yes, Sir.”

“That’s a good boy. Now, you just say stop and we’ll stop, alright, sweetheart? I want you on your knees, your mouth on me. Do you want that?”

“Yes, Sir. Yes, yes, yes, yes, please, please can I?”

Laughing, Kenobi releases his hand to grab his hair instead. “Such an eager boy for me. You’re even better than I’d thought.”

He’s pulled into a kiss as he’s keening. Obi-Wan’s mustache is a new sensation on his face, Padmé the only one he’s ever kissed and her face always smooth. Anakin brings his hand up to Obi-Wan’s shoulder and opens his mouth. The grip in his hair tightens momentarily before Obi-Wan groans and lets go. He then pulls away.

“Come around the desk, baby boy.”

Blinking, it takes Anakin a moment to process that the desk is still between them, keeping Kenobi from him. But he quickly rises from his chair and climbs onto the desk, focused on getting Kenobi’s attention back on him.

Kenobi huffs out a laugh before clicking his tongue, hands coming to Anakin’s shoulders, keeping him from sliding off the desk. “What did I tell you to do, Anakin?”

“The desk–”

“Not the obstacle. What did I say, baby boy?”

Flushing, Anakin ducks his head. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“It’s water under the bridge, darling.” Kenobi’s hand comes to run through the front of Anakin’s hair. “You’re just eager. I don’t expect you to be perfect today.”

Anakin tilts into Kenobi’s hand. “Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re welcome. Now, I think you’d better get off this desk, hmm?”

Scrambling as Kenobi pushes himself away from the desk, Anakin slides off. He drops to his knees, looking up at Kenobi once he’s comfortable. A muttered shit follows, and he preens. Resting his left hand and his right arm on Kenobi’s thighs, Anakin bats his eyelashes and drops open his mouth.

Kenobi swears again, one hand coming to Anakin’s hair and the other to his fly. “What exactly did you picture when I said your mouth on me, baby boy? Because I’m about to fuck your mouth; it’s too tempting just hanging open.”

“Please, Sir. Please,” he whines. Seeing Kenobi’s dick, flaccid but so thick, Anakin juts his lip in the way that makes Padmé more likely to be indulgent. “Can I touch myself?”

Kenobi’s hand dips further into his pants, and his dick starts to get erect. Anakin whimpers; whoever did Kenobi’s phallo gave him a lovely penis. “No. I want to make you cum myself.”

Front hole pulsing, Anakin moans and digs his fingers into the thigh below them. Kenobi reaches into his pocket to pull out a condom, and Anakin watches in awe as he rips the packet open with his teeth. Sliding the condom onto himself, Kenobi’s hand then slides up his dick, jacking himself off for a few moments before pushing so he’s level with Anakin’s mouth. Anakin leans his head forward, but Kenobi’s grip goes the opposite way. 

“I want you to tap my thigh if you need me to pull out. Tap to show you understand.”

Pouting, Anakin does. “Can you fuck me now? Please, Sir?”

“So impatient, aren’t you? What would you do if I said no, darling?”

Say no??? Anakin rapidly shakes his head, whining. “I’ll be good. Please. Sir, please, don’t say no.”

“Oh, baby boy, I know you can beg me better than that.” Kenobi drags forward, however, and Anakin keens as his lips are used for Kenobi to brush his dick against. “But I don’t think I want to wait any longer to have you.”

With that, Anakin moans; Kenobi thrusts up while he pulls Anakin forward. The grip in his hair tightens, and Anakin digs his fingers into Kenobi’s thigh as dick hits the back of his throat. Anakin looks up at Kenobi, the way his shirt is still buttoned, and his hole throbs. Focusing on his breathing, trying not to let a gag even start, Anakin shifts his legs. One of Kenobi’s hands come to his cheek. 

“Such a good boy, baby. You’re doing a good job.”

The praise washes over him, warmth curls into his belly, his hole he can feel gets even wetter, his underwear starting to soak. Anakin tilts his head as the tickle starts, fingers tightening, eyes squeezing as he tries to hold off. Kenobi swears above him before pulling him off. 

“Fuck, baby boy.”

Anakin takes a deep breath, immediately brought back down once he’s drawn it. Kenobi slides him up and down, dick not slipping in enough to gag him. The hand in his hair is tight; his scalp prickles the slightest bit. The hand on his face moves to his jaw. Anakin is completely at Kenobi’s mercy, and the knowledge makes him moan and his dick ache and his hole clench. 

He rubs his tongue on an upward pull. Kenobi grunts, and Anakin is treated to the roughest push down yet. He adjusts his grip on Kenobi’s thigh as he’s pushed, pushed, pushed. The gag is immediate as Kenobi holds him down, and his body wracks with it. Anakin squeezes his eyes shut as he fights the need for air, shaking and tightening his fingers. Kenobi caresses his jaw, and he murmurs praise above him. _That’s it, baby boy. Just like that, hold on for me. Your mouth feels so damn good, fuck,_ Anakin clings to it all.

But he needs to breath. Anakin’s about to uncurl his fingers to tap when he’s released for air. Gasping, he meets Kenobi’s eyes. He’s met with an impressed look, a slight flush dusting Kenobi’s cheeks. Pride swirling through his veins, Anakin takes a deep breath and drops his mouth open again. 

“Shit,” escapes Kenobi’s lips. Anakin whines as the hand on his chin leaves. He’s shushed as Kenobi grabs at his dick, jacking it slowly twice. Then he rubs it over Anakin’s lips. “Such a pretty boy.”

Anakin darts his tongue out. He doesn’t break eye contact as he swirls around the head, drawing forth a shaky moan. Curling his tongue, the taste of latex filling his sense, he bats his eyes. Kenobi’s hand slides up the shaft to met his lips. 

“I’m gonna start fucking you again, baby boy.”

And he does. Anakin whines as his head is pushed down, dick thrust into his mouth. Kenobi’s hand joins his other on his head, and he sets the pace fast this time. Anakin’s hole throbs, his underwear, he knows, soaked. The tears have been forming start to spill from his eyes. He’s here for Kenobi’s pleasure, to be used, to be a good boy, and he is. He is. His mouth slides up and down, dick in and out of his throat, Sir’s hands strong on his head and voice embracing him. Moans and groans and swearing, all because _Anakin_ is being good, is pleasing him. 

Anakin can’t help but whine around his next throatful, a gag wracking his body soon after. There is nothing but Sir. Trembling, short of breath, fingers buried in Sir’s thigh, he is for Sir. Gasping as he’s released from Sir’s dick, Anakin blinks his eyes up, vision slightly blurry. Sir’s hand pets from his hair to his cheek, cradling his jaw. His other hand comes up to his mouth, thumb pressing against his bottom lip. 

“Keep your mouth open just like that, darling.” Nodding, keening, Anakin breathes in heavily. Sir’s thumb leaves his lip, and he can’t help but whine at the loss. “Shhhh, baby boy. I’m gonna cum looking at those pretty lips.”

High in his throat, Anakin keens as his hole throbs from the words. He’s so damn wet, so damned turned on. He’s getting Sir’s orgasm, he’s way Sir is going to cum. Transfixed, he watches as Sir removes the condom to fling it into his desk trashcan and how Sir’s hand then pumps himself, the way he twists his wrist and tightens his hand at the head. Anakin moans at the movements, how much better Sir’s dick looks without the gloss of the condom. An aborted laugh sounds above him at his moans, hips thrusting up as well. 

Sir keeps his hips held up, dick in front of Anakin’s mouth but not touching. His moans get louder as his hand gets faster, and Anakin wiggles where he kneels, feels the wetness dripping from himself. Sir groans at that, loud and guttural. With one last jerk of his hand around the base, Anakin is treated to his loudest noise yet. A small amount of fluid escapes Sir’s dick as he orgasms, body trembling. Anakin moans as he watches the pleasure washes over him, running all over his body.

Keeping his mouth open, Anakin breathes in heavily through his nose. It takes a moment for Sir to come down, sagging back into his chair. Pleasure is written into every line of his body, and Anakin beams. He perks up as Sir sits up, a hand coming to cradle his face.

“You can close your mouth now, dear one. You were such a good boy for me, baby. Such a lovely boy.” Preening, Anakin spreads his legs. Sir laughs. “Is that you asking for me to touch you?”

Nodding, Anakin smiles. 

“Say it, baby boy.”

“Sir, please touch me. Please, please, please, I was good!”

Anakin’s head is tilted up, Sir coming down to press a kiss to his lips. “You were a good boy, baby. I want you to stand up now, take your clothes off, and lean over the desk.” 

“Yes, Sir, yes, Sir!” Anakin cries, scrambling to stand up. Sir chuckles at him, but he’s excited. Throwing his shirt off his head and then his binder, Anakin then toes his shoes off and rips open his jeans. Turning slightly red at how his wetness leaves a trail as he pulls down his underwear, he then steps out of them and turns to lean over the desk. The wood is hard underneath him, and he shivers as he feels Sir’s hands come to his ass. 

“You’ve got such a lovely ass, baby boy. Tell me what to call everything.”

“My dick and my front hole. My hole.”

“Good boy. May I touch your hole?”

Anakin lets out a loud moan. “Please, Sir. Please, please, please touch my hole, please finger me.”

“Finger you? You don’t want me to eat you out?” Sir leans over him, voice right into his ear. “Just stick my fingers in? You’re so wet, baby boy.”

Keening, Anakin flails out his right arm and scrambles for purchase with his left fingers. 

“Like that, baby boy? Me just taking you?”

“Yes, Sir.” His voice breaks. “ _Please_.”

Sir swears as he pulls away. His hands dig into his ass before his right hand slides towards his hole. His fingers tease around his lips, feather soft, and Anakin whines. 

“Sir, please…”

“Yes, baby boy? Please, what?”

Rubbing his cheek on the desk and tilting his hips, Anakin whines. “Please, your fingers, Sir.”

“My fingers?” He rubs along his lips down to his hole, voice teasing. “Oh, baby boy, you’ll get them.”

Moaning, Anakin curls his fingers as Sir begins working one of his own in. Sir takes his time before putting in a second one, and Anakin is shaking in anticipation of the finger fucking. It feels as if he can hear his wetness moving with every action of Sir’s fingers, squelching and squelching and there isn’t even thrusting yet. He’s soaking wet. Whining and pushing out his ass, Anakin wants more.

“Impatient, baby boy?” Sir pulls his fingers out and thrusts back in quickly, fingers curling. Anakin wails. “Such an eager boy for me.”

Sir sets the pace fast, and all Anakin can do is whine and moan and wail and hold on. The sounds of his wetness echo in the room, and the fingers in him are thick. Moaning, arm rubbing the desk and fingernails scraping it, Anakin enjoys being taken.

“Oh, baby boy. You look so pretty getting wrecked on my fingers.” Sir leans down to kiss his back. “Your moans and cries sound so pretty, darling. You’re so fucking wet for me. Such a good boy.”

Anakin keens as the praise washes over him, and he tries to muffle his scream in his arm as Sir’s words tips him over the edge. He shakes, and shakes, and shakes as pleasure takes him, Sir’s fingers still fucking into his hole, even more wetness coming from him. Mouth hanging open, little hitches of his breath because he can’t take in more, Anakin rides out the wave. As his breathing evens out, Sir’s fingers slow. Then they slip out of him, and Anakin misses them immediately, feeling empty. He’s immediately shushed and rolled over. 

“Good boy.” Sir smiles at him at pets at his hair. “How are you feeling, Anakin? Where are you?”

Wetting his lips, absorbing the question, Anakin lets out a sloppy smile. “Good. I’m good, Sir.”

“I’m glad, baby. Besides cleaning off, do you need anything? Want anything?”

Anakin bites his lip. “Kisses and sitting on your lap?”

“Kisses and my lap it is.” Sir opens one of his desk drawers to pull out wet wipes. “I’m gonna clean you up now, Anakin.”

“Why do you have those in your desk?”

Anakin shivers as the first wet wipe caresses him, wiggling a bit from the sensation. Kenobi brings a hand down on his thigh in a stilling motion. 

“Because I spill coffee. Also you aren’t the first person I’ve fucked in here.” A fond smile grows on his face. “Bail enjoys it immensely.”

He just came, but the thought of Bail and Kenobi fucking in here is hot as hell, and Anakin groans as his dick gives a weak twitch. Kenobi laughs at him as he finishes wiping him up. Then he pulls Anakin up and turns him around, a pleased smile on his face. Anakin basks in the approval, that Kenobi likes his body, likes how messy Anakin knows he looks. 

“Would you like to get redressed?” 

Pouting, Anakin nods. He knows that he’ll start to feel a little chilled without his mind so heavily focused in subspace, but that doesn’t mean he has to like the extra minute it’ll take for him to get into Kenobi’s lap. Anakin watches as Kenobi leans down to pick up his clothes, stomach fluttering as he holds out Anakin’s underwear for him to step into. Steadying himself with his hand on Kenobi’s shoulder, Anakin does. The fabric is slid up his legs, and soon his pants follow. Kenobi rises with his binder and shirt with a pleased grin on his face. Anakin lifts up his arms before even being asked. His binder is placed onto the desk, and it takes only a second for Kenobi to slip his shirt over his head, hands trailing down his abdomen, causing Anakin to take in a shuddery breath.

Then he’s pulled into Kenobi’s body, and the two of them fall into the abandoned chair. Anakin winds his fingers into Kenobi’s shirt and leans his other arm against Kenobi’s bicep. He then burrows himself into the crook of Kenobi’s neck. 

“I wanna be here,” he murmurs. 

Kenobi’s hand comes up to pet his hair and he presses a kiss to Anakin’s forehead. “Okay, Anakin.”


End file.
